I’m on the wallaby with my pack at the moment. My name is Scotty-Dog and this is a letter to my Doc’. He worries about me ‘cause he cares and I figured this was the best way to let him know I’m fine. Gran is typing this for me because she’s better at it than I am.
I suffer from hayfever … stop smirking! Dogs get hayfever too and it is worse for us ‘cause it itches the skin. I’m sensitive you see, sensitive to hay? An’ a dog has gotta scratch where a dog has gotta scratch … things just keep getting worse! … ohh those skin rashes are from all the things on the list I am sensitive to.
Hmmm not sure if hay was on the list the Doc’ gave us but I have a list of all the things I am sensitive too… things like cigarettes, mango’s and lots of plants so I guess hay just might be in there.
For near on two years now, which is a third of my life I’ve been getting shots for my allergies. I hated those shots they had to muzzle me but they had trouble finding a small enough muzzle, I am just pint sized. The shots helped some, but it ain’t gunna get much better than it got after two years they thought. My Gran tells me I’m a million dollar dog but she doesn’t look so impressed when she says it.
My pack masters decided it was time to travel and that bought changes to all our lives. They are retired now you see, though what that is I don’t know … it does mean that Grampie is around all the time and I love the old man to bits. He pats me, feeds me and takes me for walks so I am devoted to him. Don’t tell my Dad he might just get jealous.
Dad couldn’t look after me as he works and I need a lot of attention … I have a phobic problem, I like company and this might just cause me to dig my way to China looking for someone. For this reason I am on the wallaby with the Grans’ hoping from camp to camp like a damn wallaby. This is my life now.
My pack consists of the two Grans’, Tuppi my woman and me though life has got very exciting of late. Moving from camp to camp you meet lots of girls, and even a few who are in season. My Gran says that I’m a game little nut but she laughs when she says that. Maybe it’s because all the new girls make me shake and howl … but I’ve learnt to howl softly or I get an ear clip. Gran says I am going to get a ‘neutered’ when we get near home … don’t know what that is yet.
My woman, Tuppi doesn’t mind at all, she understands the pack rules. She thinks she rules but she doesn’t … she just rules me. Sometimes she even lets me hump her leg, which is about as high as I can reach but that is fun enough. Gran threatens to buy me a video cause I’m so inept … I’m not sure I know what that means either but you don’t argue with Gran, she can be a cranky old biddy.
Freecamping is for dogs, it is true pack life and mostly we aren’t allowed in caravan parks, nor even shops. People don’t like us in these places though we make less mess than the grandkids do and we are always on a lead when we are near others. Gran says I can’t be trusted just following them. I know I often get too excited and forget where I am and that I am supposed to have manners, so I don’t mind a tight leash then.
Grampie’s the pack master really, but like women, Gran thinks she is. But since she gets the food we let her think that. The same goes for Tuppi, my woman. We don’t go to caravan parks often because that means we have to be on the leash all the time and they park so close that it really does mean “all the time”, so we choose to travel on the wallaby or freecamping. Lots of dogs like freecamping, it really is a dogs world.
I am still on the leash often, but the leash follows me and it’s not so bad when it isn’t tethered. I can’t run far with that dam thing dragging after me but it’s better than not being able to run at all. I am still on the leash am I not?
I have seen new and wonderful things, strange animals and new sounds. Life as become an adventure for me though I am not sure what I am going to do with these new creatures if I ever manage to catch one.
But what I wanted to tell the Doc’ is that life is good. All my rashes have cleared up just like he said they might, and what is more I am growing back my hair … there is nothing quite as pathetic as a dog with no hair, or even worse … baldy patches! It is near as bad as a pub with no beer and I have been there now too. Well nearly, we go lots of places now.
Life is good. I get to chase birds and cows chase me. All the new and different sounds keep me busy and the smells are a delight. Every morning I scope the perimeter of the camp and every morning it gets just that bit bigger as I claim our territory. It would be better if Gramps’ didn’t keep moving the pack. A mutt could get mighty dry marking the perimeter too often.
But worse things in this world like the other day when I was bitten by a green ant … on my balls! Grampie made me up a med bath and I didn’t want to get out. I can’t think where it was that I buried that bone either! So if you find my bone… look after it for me won’t you. There are a lot of dogs on the wallaby like me you know, most everyone has a dog these days and we’re family too.
A pack is a pack, is a pack.
This was written for my Doc’s ’cause they asked me to stay in contact and let them know how I was going.
The Million Dollar Dog.